


Hashing It Out

by AutumnHobbit



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a happy-ish ending, Gen, batfam, father-son feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 14:45:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10721412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnHobbit/pseuds/AutumnHobbit
Summary: anonymous asked: Bruce and Jason reconciliation where bruce convince jason to get profesional help (like he tried to do in his last will in the comics). Long talk about feelings ofc____“Jason.” Bruce said.“Bruce.” Jason replied.There was a beat. “Sit down,” Bruce said, gesturing to the chair across from him.Jason curled his hand into a fist. He’d agreed to show up to this stupid meeting where Bruce was doubtlessly going to try to manipulate him into doing who-knew-what, and he was still ordering him around like he was an obedient little child who–“Please,” Bruce tacked on belatedly, cringing in self-reproach.





	Hashing It Out

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit rushed, but hopefully it's okay.

Jason paused outside the door for a long moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Finally, he grasped the knob and turned it, pushing inside. Bruce was sitting at a table, facing the door, and he straightened slightly when Jason entered, a mix of emotions on his face. The main one, however, was relief. Jason knew him well enough to remember that much. He didn’t know if that emotion eased his fears or put him even more on-edge.

He shut the door behind him.

“Jason.” Bruce said.

“Bruce.” Jason replied.

There was a beat. “Sit down,” Bruce said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

Jason curled his hand into a fist. He’d agreed to show up to this stupid meeting where Bruce was doubtlessly going to try to manipulate him into doing who-knew-what, and he was still ordering him around like he was an obedient little child who–

“Please,” Bruce tacked on belatedly, cringing in self-reproach.

Jason took three swift steps forward and pulled the chair out with a screech, sitting down stiffly.

“…Well.” Bruce said awkwardly, and Jason rolled his eyes. He knew there was bound to be a reason why Bruce had called him—Bruce, inviting his estranged son to his house and practically begging him to meet peacefully _without_ an ulterior motive? Please. But Jason didn’t know what the ulterior motive was, as of yet….and the nervous churning in his stomach was an inconvenient sign that he was a little afraid to find out what it was.

Bruce folded his hands together on the desk, and took a deep breath. “Jason. I, um. I wanted to speak with you for a reason.”

 _Yeah, no, duh._ Jason leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

“It’s a reason that, I suspect, probably won’t be a comfortable subject for you, or something you’d ever want to discuss with me, but I want to address it in some form because…because I worry about you and I–” Bruce fumbled over the words for a moment. “I want you to be safe, and possibly even better than safe.”

The more Bruce spoke, the more Jason’s body language tensed up. By the time he’d finished that little opening statement, Jason was grinding his teeth and his heart was giving odd little flutters. There was a long pause.

“Well.” Jason gritted out. “Out with it.”

Bruce bit his lip, not meeting Jason’s eyes, his hands working as he clasped them atop the table. “Jason…” he said, slowly, painfully. “The life you live…I realize now is mostly my fault, and I take responsibility for it. I believe…I _hope_ …that being able to make a practical impact on crime was a positive outlet for you…but I don’t _know_ that, and I…” he sighed. “I don’t know if it still is.”

Jason’s mind raced as he puzzled over the words. A meaning stood out and his eyes widened. He shoved his chair back, standing up quickly.

“You won’t take the Hood from me,”  he growled, both hands in fists, now. “You can’t.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gah, Jason,” he said, sounding a mix between desperate and exasperated. “I’m not–I’m not going to take anything from you against your will. You’re an adult now, you can decide for yourself what to do. I’m asking you, as your father, to please just…hear me out and talk to me. I just want to…I know I haven’t done what I needed to, Jason. I’d…like to try to fix that now, if you’ll let me.”

Jason stood for a moment, chest heaving, hands still curled into fists. Finally he scoffed, and sat back down.

“You’re _not_ my father,” he growled under his breath, pushing past the undeniable wrongness of the statement and the screaming in his head that knew _exactly_ how cruel that was, because to the vindictive part of him, it was worth it just for the satisfaction.

Bruce’s face fell, and he dropped his gaze to the table again, but not before Jason caught a hint of…wetness? In his eyes? Guilt welled up in his throat, and he swallowed hard, pushing it back down into the corner of his mind.

There was a long, awkward pause.

“Jason,” Bruce finally said, hoarsely. “I was wrong.”

Jason’s gaze snapped up. “What?”

“I was wrong, and you were right. Sometimes killing can be necessary, in order to protect innocents. I hate it, but it’s true. However…” Bruce swallowed hard. “It’s not your job, or your responsibility to kill. You don’t deserve that.”

“Yeah, well who the fuck else is going to do it?” Jason asked scathingly, his arms locked across his chest. “The GCPD? Nightwing? You?”

Bruce closed his eyes tightly. “Jason…you know I can’t. I won’t.”

Jason’s jaw tightened to near-breaking. “Then nothing has changed, and there’s no reason for us to talk.” He pushed his chair back.

“Jay…” Bruce’s voice cracked, and Jason froze. “Please.”

Cursing himself, and probably chipping a tooth, Jason sat back down.

“Jason.” Bruce’s hands were folded tight on the desk. “I…I’ve gotten to a point where I don’t think you’re wrong that sometimes defense requires deadly force. My concern is…that with all you’ve been through, you might not be able to tell when it’s warranted.”

Jason’s hands clamped down on his chair. “You’re insinuating that I’m compromised?” He said, almost sweetly, through his teeth. “You think I’m just some psycho killer who doesn’t give a care who gets hurt so long as my interests are protected?”

Bruce met his gaze. “No. I know you’re not. That’s why it worries me.”

Jason didn’t know what to say to that. 

Bruce went on. “I’m never going to condemn you for protecting your own life when it’s threatened, or protecting an innocent when their life is threatened. But outside of that, Jason…” Bruce sighed. “It can have consequences, for you, and for the rest of us. Legal ones, moral ones, mental ones, physical ones, emotional ones. We’re already breaking the law by a significant standard. The Commissioner allows us to operate because we keep things to a certain line and he needs our help. I don’t think he’ll lose any sleep over someone who attacked you with a knife getting a bullet to the shoulder, but to the head? That might be pushing our luck a little too much.”

Jason scoffed. “You think the Commissioner’s going to come after you people? He _knows_ you wouldn’t kill someone if they were actively stabbing you. Or are you worried that I’ll just drag the rest of you down…?”

“Damnit, Jason!” Bruce’s hand slammed down on the desk, and Jason tensed right up without meaning to. “I don’t want to lose you again!”

Jason’s eyes got wide as saucers. He stared as Bruce sank down, pressed his hand against his eyes.

“I don’t care about your issues. They’re not enough to make me give up on you. But I can’t…I _can’t_ keep doing this, Jay.” He sounded broken, hopeless. “I can’t keep trying and trying and getting no real response. I, I have _no_ idea whether you want to stay or not, or whether you want to be part of the family or not, or whether our relationship matters enough to you for you to want to fix it, or–or _anything._ And I can’t, Jason. I can’t keep pulling all the weight. I don’t want to give up on you, but I can’t fix it alone. I just can’t.”

Jason swallowed hard, his eyes burning. He…he knew he was intentionally harsh about Bruce and his failures, but…was Bruce really doubting? That Jason had ever loved him?

Of course he had. Bruce had meant the world to him. That was why he’d been so crushed.

“Jay?” Bruce sounded almost resigned, but with a hint of concern and trepidation. Jason tried to meet his eyes, but couldn’t.

“What are you suggesting?” He finally asked, almost inaudibly.

It was silent for a long moment.

“I…” Bruce swallowed, hesitant. “I know there are a lot of things about you, and your feelings and experiences that I don’t understand. And I know that trying to discuss them with just the two of us will never get us anywhere. So I…” Bruce sighed. “I think we should look for an outside party.”

“Hell no. I’m not going to a shrink.” Jason bit out instantly.

“Jason, it doesn’t have to be anyone here,” Bruce groaned, rubbing his eyes again. “We could go to someone in the League, or even someone you trust who’s just good at listening and interpreting and whatever. They don’t have to be licensed if you don’t want. But we need an outside perspective, someone who isn’t embroiled in our mess every day and someone who isn’t too compromised with personal biases to be fair. I think that would help.”

Jason worried the inside of his cheek with his teeth. The idea of having to admit to some of the things he’d gone through, and the things he’d thought and felt, in Bruce’s presence sounded like one of his nightmares. He was emphatically _not_ eager to talk about any of this stuff, now or ever.

But…was keeping his secrets worth tearing everyone else up? Was it fair to Bruce, or to the others?

Was he really ready to take the alternative and leave them all behind to go his own way? How long could he reasonably play both sides without doing irreversible damage?

He didn’t _want_ to leave forever. He’d been angry, and he still was, but he’d never been able to act on his anger. Hell, he’d tried to kill Bruce–wasn’t he, logically, the only one who deserved to die for his own failings?

But he didn’t deserve to die, either. Jason had known that even while his thumb hovered over the button. Killing Bruce wouldn’t be justice. It would be cold-blooded murder.

Jason bit his tongue. “F-fine.” He gritted out, a half-stutter.

Bruce’s chin snapped up. “What?”

“I’ll do it.” Jason breathed.

“You will?” Bruce sounded hesitant to accept that it had been this easy.

“Yes, I’ll come to your fuckin’ meetings.” Jason growled scathingly. He refused to move his gaze from the desk. He wasn’t willing to see Bruce’s expression.

“Thank…” Bruce swallowed. “Thank you, Jay.”

Jason scowled, and got up. “Don’t thank me yet.” He turned and stalked off towards the kitchen, shutting the door firmly behind him. He swore he could feel Bruce’s stupid smile on his neck for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr: autumnhobbit.tumblr.com


End file.
